Locked Away
by RosePotter123
Summary: Mallory Perton had a normal life. Help around home and have fun with her friends Clary and Simon. But it all changes when Clary and Mallory see something no-one can see not even their best friend Simon. Mallory finds out secrets about herself, finding out she wasn't as normal as she thought.
1. Chapter 1

"You've got to be kidding me," the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head.

"You can't bring that thing in here."

The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement.

"Aw, come on." The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. "It's part of my costume."

The bouncer raised an eyebrow. "Which is what?"

The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. "I'm a vampire hunter." He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. "It's fake. Foam rubber. See?"

The boy's wide eyes were way too bright a green, Clary noticed: the color of antifreeze, spring grass. Colored contact lenses, probably. The bouncer shrugged, abruptly bored.

"Whatever. Go on in."

The boy slid past him, quick as an eel. Clary liked the lilt to his shoulders, the way he tossed his hair as he went. There was a word for him that her mother would have used—insouciant.

"That is what I call hot."

Clary turned around to see Mallory pushing her through people behind them to stand beside Simon. She received glares from the people she pushed through but Mallory pointedly ignored them brushing her blonde hair behind her ear.

"You thought that was hot?" asked Simon with a confused frown on his face obviously not agreeing with Mallory on the the attractiveness of the boy that just walked into the club.

"You didn't?" said Mallory. "Clary sure looked like she did."

Clary dug her elbow into Mallory's ribs, but didn't answer. She ignored the chuckling from Mallory and the scandalised look from Simon.

...

"So," Simon said, "pretty good music, eh?"

Mallory didn't answer to busy dancing, her arms thrown in the air as her body moved to the music that came from the speakers on the walls of the club. They had finally been allowed inside where they had quickly moved to the dance floor in the middle of the club. Simon and Clary swayed side to side in some type of dance move obviously not used to dancing in such huge crowds where bodies rubbed up against one another. Clary side stepped as someone nearly bumped into her, the drink in there hands splashing onto the ground.

"I, for one," Simon went on, "am enjoying myself immensely."

This seemed unlikely. Simon, as always, stuck out at the club like a sore thumb, in jeans and an old T-shirt that said made in Brooklyn across the front. His freshly scrubbed hair was dark brown instead of green or pink, and his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose. He looked less as if he were contemplating the powers of darkness and more as if he were on his way to chess club.

"That's the spirit." said Mallory grinning slightly huffing under her breath from dancing. She knew that Simon wasn't really enjoying himself, he wasn't one for clubs or huge parties and had only came to impress Clary who had always like the club scenes. Mallory didn't know why she did, since Clary was very shy when it came to people only really talking to Simon and Mallory.

It had always been the three of them as they grew up. Mallory had started living with Clary and Jocelyn when she was three years old after her parents had died in a car crash. Jocelyn had been close friends with her parents and had taken her in after their death and raised her as her own daughter.

They had met Simon later on and had become good friends with each other. Clary had became friends with him since she was too shy to speak to anyone else and Mallory because she didn't see the point in being friends with any other people. Mallory wasn't very social and didn't care much about hanging around with a large group of friends. The only people she hanged around was the people in her school soccer team, Clary and Simon.

"I feel," Simon went on, "that this evening DJ Bat is doing a singularly exceptional job. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah, it's great." said Clary smiling enthusiastically, her cheeks flushed from the heat in the club. Simon and Clary stared at each other before breaking eye contact and looking away taking interest in the people dancing around them.

Mallory looked between them and her lips lifted into a smirk as they pretended that the small moment didn't happen. It wasn't even awkward anymore that they had these moments in front of her, they had so many of them it was hard to keep count. She wondered when one of them would have the guts to actually admit they liked each other, or if they would ignore there feelings for each other like they had been doing for years.

She glanced around her noticing an Asian couple making out aggressively against one of the walls. She cringed. Was it too much to act like they weren't clawing each others faces off. She wasn't jealous...okay maybe she was. She wanted to have a boy to kiss like every other girl seemed to have in the club. Even Clary had Simon who would kiss her straight away if she wanted. It was her fault. She didn't find many guys in her school cute or at least someone she could possibly date. She had only kissed two guys and it wasn't even much. Her first kiss was a boy she couldn't even remember in a game of spin the battle and her second was a blond boy she had met at the coffee shop and had went on two dates with him. Unfortunately after the second date she had found out he had a love for shoving his tongue down a girls throat without permission. Any possible dates after that was stopped.

"Meanwhile," Simon added, "I wanted to tell you that lately I've been cross-dressing. Also, I'm sleeping with your mom. I thought you should know."

Mallory turned back around bewildered at what Simon said a question forming at her lips until she noticed that he was trying to get Clary's attention. She had raised herself up on her tiptoes trying to see over the crowd. Mallory narrowed her eyes following her eyesight ,before she could see what she was staring at Clary gasped sharply pulling Mallory's attention back to her worried.

"Guys!" Clary shouted, and seized Simon's arm.

"What?" Simon looked alarmed. "I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman, for her age."

"Do you see those guys?" Clary pointed wildly, almost hitting a curvy black girl who was dancing nearby. The girl shot her an evil look. "Sorry—sorry!" Clary turned back to them. "Do you see those two guys over there? By that door?"

Simon squinted, then shrugged. "I don't see anything."

"There are two of them. They were following the guy with the blue hair—"

"The one Mallory thought was cute?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The blond one pulled a knife."

Mallory gaped. "What!""

"Are you sure?" Simon stared harder, shaking his head. "I still don't see anyone."

Mallory turned around where Clary was pointing squinting her eyes as she looked over dancing couples heads. She could see them, two boys. They had there backs to them but she could tell that one had dark hair while the other had blonde. She could see the knife that Clary was worrying about, the blonde boy was holding it and it was long and sharp and shined brightly against the dark.

"I can see them! I can see them," said Mallory not taking her eyes of the boys, the blonde especially since he was holding the knife. "I can see the knife. How can you not see them Simon."

Suddenly all business now that Mallory had seen them as well, Simon squared his shoulders. "I'll get one of the security guards. Both of you stay here." He strode away, pushing through the crowd.

Mallory watched the blond boy slip through the no admittance door, his friend right on his heels. She looked around; Simon was still trying to shove his way across the dance floor, but he wasn't making much progress. Beside her Clary began to bit her lip looking stressed before Mallory could stop her Clary started to wriggle through the crowd.

"Clary." Mallory shouted in hopes for her to come back. But Clary didn't stop as she pushed her way through the crowd her eyes on the door where the boys went through. With a frustrated groan Mallory followed her a scowl planted on her face.

...

"Hey hold on. Clary...hey watch it!"

Clary turned around to see Mallory following her, pushing a guy that had made a grip for her waist roughly on his chest making him stumble away from her. Clary sighed and waited until she stood beside her and grabbed her wrist pulling her long to the door.

"Woah! Woah! Where not going in there we. In case you forgot there is a dude with knife in there. A sharp, pointy, dangerous knife that can kill us." Mallory hissed looking at Clary like she was insane.

Maybe Clary was being insane but she couldn't let the boy with bright green eyes get hurt, not when she could possibly do something.

Without saying anything Clary pushed the door to the storage room open, and stepped inside. Mallory followed her swearing under her breath. For a moment she thought it was deserted. The only windows were high up and barred; faint street noise came through them, the sound of honking cars and squealing brakes. The room smelled like old paint, and a heavy layer of dust covered the floor, marked by smeared shoe prints.

There's no one in here, she realized, looking around in bewilderment. It was cold in the room, despite the August heat outside. Her back was icy with sweat. She took a step forward, tangling her feet in electrical wires. She bent down to free her sneaker from the cables, Mallory bent down to help her though she still didn't seem happy with the situation by the way she was frowning angrily. They both looked up alarmed as they heard voices. A girl's laugh, a boy answering sharply. Mallory stood up slowly looking slightly scared as she looked in front of her. Clary followed her eye line standing up behind her.

It was as if they had sprung into existence between one blink of her eyes and the next. There was the girl in her long white dress, her black hair hanging down her back like damp seaweed. The two boys were with her—the tall one with black hair like hers, and the smaller, fair one, whose hair gleamed like brass in the dim light coming through the windows high above. The fair boy was standing with his hands in his pockets, facing the punk kid, who was tied to a pillar with what looked like piano wire, his hands stretched behind him, his legs bound at the ankles. His face was pulled tight with pain and fear.

Clary had to stop herself from gasping in shock as Mallory grabbed her arm pulling her sharply behind a pillar keeping them both hidden, both of them peered around it. She watched as the fair-haired boy paced back and forth, his arms now crossed over his chest. "So," he said. "You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you."

Your kind? Clary wondered what he was talking about. Maybe they had stumbled into some kind of gang war. She looked at Mallory who was watching everything with furrowed eyebrows, her mouth pulled into a frown.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The blue-haired boy's tone was pained but surly.

"He means other demons," said the dark-haired boy, speaking for the first time. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

The boy tied to the pillar turned his face away, his mouth working.

"Demons," drawled the blond boy, tracing the word on the air with his finger. "Religiously defined as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension—"

"That's enough, Jace," said the girl.

"Isabelle's right," agreed the taller boy. "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics—or demonology."

They're crazy, Clary thought. Actually crazy.

Jace raised his head and smiled. There was something fierce about the gesture, something that reminded Clary of documentaries she'd watched about lions on the Discovery Channel, the way the big cats would raise their heads and sniff the air for prey. "Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much," he said, confidingly. "Do you think I talk too much?"

The blue-haired boy didn't reply. His mouth was still working. "I could give you information," he said. "I know where Valentine is."

Jace glanced back at Alec, who shrugged. "Valentine's in the ground," Jace said. "The thing's just toying with us."

Isabelle tossed her hair. "Kill it, Jace," she said. "It's not going to tell us anything."

Jace raised his hand, and Clary saw dim light spark off the knife he was holding. It was oddly translucent, the blade clear as crystal, sharp as a shard of glass, the hilt set with red stones.

The bound boy gasped. "Valentine is back!" he protested, dragging at the bonds that held his hands behind his back. "All the Infernal Worlds know it—I know it—I can tell you where he is—"

Rage flared suddenly in Jace's icy eyes. "By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is. Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you—" Jace turned the knife in his grasp, the edge sparking like a line of fire. "You can join him there."

Clary could take no more. She stepped out from behind the pillar ignoring Mallory who had tried to grab her. "Stop!" she cried. "You can't do this."

...

Mallory huffed loudly as she watched Clary run out from the pillar and banged her hand on the pillar. There was no need to be quiet now that Clary had ran out of their hiding spot getting their attention. She stepped out standing beside Clary her eyes narrowed at the group in front of her not trusting any one of them.

They were crazy after all. From trying to kill an innocent boy, from them spurting on about demons. She didn't trust Clary to take care of herself with people in front of them. She hoped Simon had gotten the body guard and was on the way to them. She knew they wouldn't be able to take on all three of them. She glanced at the green eyes boy and winced. She whirled around to stare at the the three dangerous and obviously crazy group her face put into a defensive expression. How dare they try to kill someone who was defensless.

Jace whirled, so startled that the knife flew from his hand and clattered against the concrete floor. Isabelle and Alec turned along with him, wearing identical expressions of astonishment. The blue-haired boy hung in his bonds, stunned and gaping.

It was Alec who spoke first. "What's this?" he demanded, looking from Clary and Mallory to his companions, as if they might know what they was doing there.

"Girls," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one." He took a step closer to Clary and Mallory, squinting as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Two mundie girls," he said, half to himself. "And they can see us."

"Of course we can see you," Clary said. "We're not blind, you know."

"Oh, but you are," said Jace, bending to pick up his knife. "You just don't know it." He straightened up. "You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you."

"We're not going anywhere," Mallory said. "If we do, you'll kill him." She pointed at the boy with the blue hair.

Clary nodded her head, not moving her feet.

"That's true," admitted Jace, twirling the knife between his fingers. "What do you two care if I kill him or not?"

"Be-because—," Clary spluttered. "You can't just go around killing people."

"You're right," said Jace. "You can't go around killing people." He pointed at the boy with blue hair, whose eyes were slitted. Mallory looked at him worried that he had fainted. He wasn't look as hot as she thought before. Like he should be she thought. He was about to get killed by crazy people. "That's not a person, little girls. It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it's a monster."

"Jace," said Isabelle warningly. "That's enough."

"You're crazy," Clary said, backing away from him dragging Mallory with her who was staring at Jace with a wary face wondering why he wasn't in a psych ward. "We've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second."

"She's lying," said Alec, but there was doubt on his face. "Jace, do you—"

He never got to finish his sentence. At that moment the blue-haired boy, with a high, yowling cry, tore free of the restraints binding him to the pillar, and flung himself on Jace.

They fell to the ground and rolled together, the blue-haired boy tearing at Jace with hands that glittered as if tipped with metal. Clary backed up, wanting to run, but her feet caught on a loop of wiring and she went down, knocking the breath out of her chest. She could hear Isabelle shrieking. Rolling over, Clary saw the blue-haired boy sitting on Jace's chest. Blood gleamed at the tips of his razorlike claws.

"Clary! Are you alright?" said Mallory panicked as she kneeled beside her. Clary nodded her head looking behind Mallory.

Isabelle and Alec were running toward them, Isabelle brandishing a whip in her hand. The blue-haired boy slashed at Jace with claws extended. Jace threw an arm up to protect himself, and the claws raked it, splattering blood. The blue-haired boy lunged again—and Isabelle's whip came down across his back. He shrieked and fell to the side.

Swift as a flick of Isabelle's whip, Jace rolled over. There was a blade gleaming in his hand. He sank the knife into the blue-haired boy's chest. Blackish liquid exploded around the hilt. The boy arched off the floor, gurgling and twisting. With a grimace Jace stood up. His black shirt was blacker now in some places, wet with blood. He looked down at the twitching form at his feet, reached down, and yanked out the knife. The hilt was slick with black fluid.

The blue-haired boy's eyes flickered open. His eyes, fixed on Jace, seemed to burn. Between his teeth, he hissed, "So be it. The Forsaken will take you all."

Jace seemed to snarl. The boy's eyes rolled back. His body began to jerk and twitch as he crumpled, folding in on himself, growing smaller and smaller until he vanished entirely.

Clary scrambled to her feet, kicking free of the electrical wiring. She began to back away. None of them were paying attention to them. Mallory was behind to her breath coming out in sharp gasps all she wanted was to just wanting too get away from what just happened. Alec had reached Jace and was holding his arm, pulling at the sleeve, probably trying to get a good look at the wound. Clary turned to run and found her way blocked by Isabelle, whip in hand. The gold length of it was stained with dark fluid. She flicked it toward Clary, and the end wrapped itself around her wrist and jerked tight. Clary gasped with pain and surprise.

"Stupid little mundie," Isabelle said between her teeth. "You could have gotten Jace killed."

"Get off her!" Mallory shrieked glaring at Isabelle with ferocity her hands pulled into a fist ready to punch her in the face if she didn't let Clary go. Though she didn't think it would do anything it would at least put Isabelle's attention off Clary who had began wincing in pain.

"He's crazy," Clary said, trying to pull her wrist back."You're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police—"

"The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body," said Jace. Cradling his arm, he picked his way across the cable-strewn floor toward Clary. Alec followed behind him, face screwed into a scowl.

Mallory glanced at the spot where the boy had disappeared from, and said nothing. There wasn't even a smear of blood there—nothing to show that the boy had ever existed. She gulped in fear but stood in front of Clary in some form of weak protection from the two boys. She didn't know which one was dangerous the two boys or Isabelle who still hadn't let Clary to.

"They return to their home dimensions when they die," said Jace. "In case you were wondering."

"Jace," Alec hissed. "Be careful."

"We weren't actually." Mallory snapped getting frustrated by the second as she heard Clary hiss in pain from the whip around her wrist. She looked behind her to scowl at Isabelle.

Jace drew his arm away. A ghoulish freckling of blood marked his face. His tawny gold hair even more tussled from the fight before. "They can see us, Alec," he said. "They already knows too much."

"So what do you want me to do with them?" Isabelle demanded.

"Let the girl go," Jace said quietly. Isabelle shot him a surprised, almost angry look, but didn't argue. The whip slithered away, freeing Clary's arm. She rubbed her sore wrist glancing around her, shuffling closer to Mallory. Their arms touched as they glanced at each other both wondering how the hell they were going to get out of here.

"Maybe we should bring them back with us," Alec said. "I bet Hodge would like to talk to them."

"No way are we bringing those two to the Institute," said Isabelle. "There both mundie."

"Or are they?" said Jace softly. Mallory wanted to ask what else they could be but kept her mouth shut hoping Simon would hurry up with the bodyguard. "Have you had dealings with demons, little girls? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children? Have you—"

"Our names are not 'little girs,'" Clary interrupted. "And we have no idea what you're talking about. Both of us don't believe in—in demons, or whatever you—"

"Clary? Mallory?" It was Simon's voice. She whirled around. He was standing by the storage room door. One of the burly bouncers who'd been stamping hands at the front door was next to him. "Are you guys okay?" He peered at her through the gloom. "Why are you two in here by yourself? What happened to the guys—you know, the ones with the knives?"

Mallory stared at him, then looked behind her, where Jace, Isabelle, and Alec stood, Jace still in his bloody shirt with the knife in his hand. He grinned at her and dropped a half-apologetic, half-mocking shrug. Clearly he wasn't surprised that neither Simon nor the bouncer could see them. Mallory glared at him annoyed. It didn't surprise her either since Simon couldn't see them before.

"I thought they went in here," Clary said lamely. "But I guess they didn't. I'm sorry." She glanced from Simon, whose expression was changing from worried to embarrassed, to the bouncer, who just looked annoyed. "It was a mistake."

Behind them Isabelle giggled

...

"I don't believe it," Simon said stubbornly as Clary, standing at the curb, tried desperately to hail a cab. Street cleaners had come down Orchard while they were inside the club, and the street was glossed black with oily water. Mallory was sitting on the side walk staring at the pavement under her, her hands in the pockets of her brown leather jacket.

"I know," she agreed. "You'd think there'd be some cabs. Where is everyone going at midnight on a Sunday?" She turned back to him, shrugging. "You think we'd have better luck on Houston?"

"Not the cabs," Simon said. "You—I don't believe you. Or Mallory. I don't believe those guys with the knives just disappeared."

Clary sighed. "Maybe there weren't any guys with knives, Simon. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing."

"No way. Mallory said she saw the guys as well." Simon raised his hand over his head, but the oncoming taxis whizzed by him, spraying dirty water. "I saw your guys faces when I came into that storage room. You both looked seriously freaked out, like you'd seen a ghost."

Clary thought of the group of three. She glanced down at her wrist, braceleted by a thin red line where Isabelle's whip had curled. No, not a ghost, she thought. Something even weirder than that.

"It was just a mistake," she said wearily. She wondered why they weren't telling him the truth. Except, of course, that he'd think they was crazy. And there was something about what had happened—something about the black blood bubbling up around Jace's knife, something about his voice when he'd said Have you talked with the Night Children? that she wanted to keep to herself.

"Well, it was a hell of an embarrassing mistake," Simon said. He glanced back at the club, where a thin line still snaked out the door and halfway down the block. "I doubt they'll ever let us back into Pandemonium."

Clary sighed looking down not liking that she had disappointed Simon in way and had made a full of herself. Just when she was building the gut's up to confront her feelings about him, three weird people had to come into the picture. Mallory stood up dusting her jeans.

"What do you care? You hate Pandemonium." Mallory said raising her hand again as a yellow shape sped toward them through the fog. This time, though, the taxi screeched to a halt at their corner, the driver laying into his horn as if he needed to get their attention.

"You always get the taxi's" Clary mumbled in annoyance. She knew why the cabbie stopped, Mallory was very pretty. Tall, blonde and slim were the three perfect words for her. Clary knew that if they didn't have Mallory they probably would of been stuck and would of had to walk home. Cabbies weren't very generous to the people who didn't look like runway models.

"Finally we get lucky." Simon yanked the taxi door open and slid onto the plastic-covered backseat. Clary followed, inhaling the familiar New York cab smell of old cigarette smoke, leather, and hair spray. She shuffled over to the middle of the backseat as Mallory slid in shutting the door. "We're going to Brooklyn," Simon said to the cabbie who had began glancing at Mallory, and then he turned to Clary and Mallory. "Look, you both know you can tell me anything, right?"

Clary hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Sure, Simon," she said. "I know I can."

Clary looked over to Mallory who smiled weakly nodding."Sure."

Simon smiled leaning back in the taxi seat as the cab took off into the night. Mallory and Clary exchanged looks as Simon's eyes closed. Clary turned away wondering what exactly happened tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Mallory laid on her bed staring blankly at the ceiling above her. Her hands resting gently on her stomach as she laid on her back. She hadn't gotten any sleep last night to caught up in thinking about the dangerous group of three and what happened at the club. She couldn't call or think them crazy anymore, not since she and Clary saw what happened. But it couldn't be possible could it demons couldn't be real it wasn't believable. She didn't believe it. Why would a demon posses a young man. And why would he go to club. She closed her eyes exhaling her eyelashes brushing against her cheek.

The image of what happened that night replayed in her mind. The screams, the slashing of the knife. The voices.

She breathed out opening her eyes leaning forward pressing her chin to her knees brushing her hair behind her ear as she looked around her bedroom. Something for some reason felt different. Was it her. Was it because of what she saw. She stood up from her bed and moved to the only window in her bedroom pushing the curtain to the side as she looked out the window. Everything was the same. People walked past under her window chatting about normal things. She looked away from the window pressing her back to the wall groaning. God all she could think about was what happened.

Isabelle's long whip that had burned Clary. Alec trying to get the boy off Jace. And Jace with his total interest in them.

"Now I'm the one whose going crazy." Mallory muttered under breath rubbing her face frustrated. She looked up as she heard movements in the lounge room and pushed herself of the wall hesitating to step out of her room. She shook her head rolling her eyes and opened the door. She was being paranoid. She walked out into the loungeroom where Clary and Luke were. They were in their usual attire. Luke wore his old faded pair of jeans and shirt while Clary wore her usual shirt, jeans and sneakers.

Mallory went to stand beside Clary and nodded her head at the belongings on the floor beside Luke's feet. "What's with all the boxes?"

The grin he was wearing vanished. "Jocelyn wanted to pack up some things," Luke said, avoiding there gaze.

"What things?" Clary asked.

He gave an airy wave. "Extra stuff lying around the house. Getting in the way. You know she never throws anything out. So what are you up to? Studying?" He plucked a book out of Clary's hand and read out loud: "The world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. Fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons, still hover about—" He lowered the book and looked at her over his glasses. "Is this for school?"

"The Golden Bough? No. School's not for a few weeks." Clary took the book back from him. "It's my mom's."

"I had a feeling."

Mallory snickered walking into the kitchen and grabbed the milk from the fridge pouring it into a glass, putting the milk back in the fridge. She leaned on the bench in the kitchen facing them drinking her milk.

Clary dropped it back on the table. "Luke?"

"Uh-huh?" The book already forgotten, he was rummaging in the tool kit next to the hearth. "Ah, here it is." He pulled out an orange plastic tape gun and gazed at it with deep satisfaction.

"What would you do if you saw something nobody else could see?"

The tape gun fell out of Luke's hand, and hit the tiled hearth. He knelt to pick it up, not looking at her. "You mean if I were the only witness to a crime, that sort of thing?"

"No. I mean, if there were other people around, but you were the only one who could see something. As if it were invisible to everyone but you."

He hesitated, still kneeling, the dented tape gun gripped in his hand. Mallory looked down at her glass, her milk already gone as she stared at the bottom twisting the glass in her hands as she watched the tiniest parts of milk glide along the bottom of the glass. In her opinion she didn't want anyone knowing what they saw, people would get them to a psych ward and label them crazy. The only person they should trust now was each other. But she let Clary carry on, maybe this was her way of getting whatever happened last night at the club off her chest.

"I know it sounds crazy," Clary ventured nervously, "but…"

He turned around. His eyes, very blue behind the glasses, rested on Clary with a look of firm affection. "Clary, you're an artist, like your mother. That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy—just different. There's nothing wrong with being different. Did both of you see something." He turned to look at Mallory who licked her lips not wanting to say anything.

Clary pulled her legs up, and rested her chin on her knees. She said, "No I just thought I saw something. Mallory didn't see anything. If my dad had lived, do you think he'd have been an artist too?"

Mallory put her glass in the sink, looking over her shoulder to stare at Clary. She wondered what her parents would act like if they had still been alive to look after her. She wondered what they would be doing and if they would live in the same neighbourhood as Clary and Jocelyn.

Luke looked taken aback. Before he could answer her, the door swung open and Jocelyn stalked into the room, her boot heels clacking on the polished wooden floor. She handed Luke a set of jingling car keys and turned to look between Clary and Mallory.

Jocelyn Fray was a slim, compact woman, her hair a few shades darker than Clary's and twice as long. At the moment it was twisted up in a dark red knot, stuck through with a graphite pen to hold it in place. She wore paint-spattered overalls over a lavender T-shirt, and brown hiking boots whose soles were caked with oil paint. Clary and Jocelyn looked much alike though Clary always argued they weren't. The only thing that was different between them was that Clary was shorter than Jocelyn and had a face full of freckles something that Mallory was sure would clear up as Clary got older.

"Thanks for bringing the boxes up," Jocelyn said to Luke, and smiled at him. He didn't return the smile. Mallory frowned leaning on her elbows in the bench looking between them. Clearly there was something going on. "Sorry it took me so long to find a space. There must be a million people at the park today—"

"Mom?" Clary interrupted. "What are the boxes for?"

Jocelyn bit her lip. Luke flicked his eyes toward Clary, mutely urging Jocelyn forward. With a nervous twitch of her wrist, Jocelyn pushed a dangling lock of hair behind her ear and went to join her daughter on the couch. Jocelyn turned to look at Mallory and waved her forward.

"You should sit down too,"

Mallory walked out of the kitchen and sat beside Clary leaving her in the middle of her and Jocelyn. She peered at Jocelyn and noticed how tired she looked. Dark circles were under her eyes, Mallory leaned forward nearly touching Clary'a shoulder eager to hear what was happening that was causing Luke to look annoyed at Jocelyn. Mallory knew that Luke had feelings for Jocelyn, it wasn't hard to notice with the lingering glances he sent Jocelyn. So she wondered what happened to make him annoyed and aggravated with her.

"Is this about last night? Because we told you why we were late." Mallory asked.

"No," Jocelyn said quickly, and then hesitated. "Maybe a little. You girls shouldn't have done what you did last night. You both know better."

"And we already apologized. What is this about? If you're grounding us get it over with." Clary interrupted Jocelyn bitterly.

"I'm not," said Jocelyn, "grounding you." Her voice was as taut as a wire. She glanced at Luke, who shook his head.

"Just tell them, Jocelyn," he said.

"Could you not talk about us like we're not here?" Clary said angrily. "And what do you mean, tell us? Tell us what?"

Mallory kept her mouth tightly pursed not wanting to say anything. She wanted to ask the same thing but she could never say something bad to Jocelyn. Not because she was scared of the outcome, she knew she was blunt when it came to things but she couldn't act anything but polite to Jocelyn since she always felt bad if she treated her wrong. She had brought her in when her parents died when she didn't have too.

Jocelyn expelled a sigh. "We're going on vacation."

Luke's expression went blank, like a canvas wiped clean of paint.

Clary shook her head. "That's what this is about? You're going on vacation?" She sank back against the cushions. "I don't get it. Why the big production?"

"I don't think you understand. I meant we're all going on vacation. The four of us—you, me, Mallory and Luke. We're going to the farmhouse."

"Oh." Mallory said surprised at the quick decision but nodded along she wouldn't mind staying at the farm house she loved visiting it whenever Luke went. She glanced over to Luke worriedly, he didn't seem happy with the idea as she looked away from them looking out the window with his arms crossed over his. "For how long?"

"For the rest of the summer," said Jocelyn. "I brought the boxes in case you girls want to pack up any books, painting supplies—"

"For the rest of the summer?" Clary sat upright with indignation. "We can't do that, Mom. We have plans—Simon, Mallory and I were going to have a back-to-school party, and I've got a bunch of meetings with my art group, and ten more classes at Tisch, Mallory has soccer camp—"

"I'm sorry about Tisch. But the other things can be canceled. Simon will understand, and so will your art group. And I'm sure the soccer team won't mind. Mallory's being going every year since she was ten"

Mallory could hear how serious she was as she looked at them. Mallory sat back on the couch crossing her arms over her chest defensively, her heart dropping at the idea of missing soccer camp. She was waiting for it all month, she had already packed to go. She loved going to Soccer camp since they always went to a little house by the beach where all the girls swam in the water and tanned on the sand.

"But I paid for those art classes! I saved up all year! You promised. And Mallory's been excited to go to soccer camp" Clary whirled, turning to Luke. "Tell her! Tell her it isn't fair!"

Luke didn't look away from the window, though a muscle jumped in his cheek. "She's your mother Clary. It's her decision to make."

"I don't get it." Mallory looked up at Jocelyn sadly. "Why?"

"I have to get away, girls," Jocelyn said, the corners of her mouth trembling. "I need the peace, the quiet, to paint. And money is tight right now—"

"So sell some more of Dad's stocks," Clary said angrily. "That's what you usually do, isn't it?"

Jocelyn recoiled. "That's hardly fair."

"Look, go if you want to go. I don't care. Mallory and I will stay here without you. I can work; We can get a job at Starbucks or something. Simon said they're always hiring. We're old enough to take care of myself—"

"No!" The sharpness in Jocelyn's voice made Clary and Mallory jump. "I'll pay you back for the art classes, Clary. But both of you are coming with us. It isn't optional. You're too young to stay here on your own. Something could happen."

"Like what? What could happen?" Clary demanded.

There was a crash. Mallory gasped and turned in surprise to find that Luke had knocked over one of the framed pictures leaning against the wall. Looking distinctly upset, he set it back. When he straightened, his mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm leaving."

Jocelyn bit her lip. "Wait." She hurried after him into the entryway, catching up just as he seized the doorknob. Twisting around on the sofa, Mallory could just overhear Jocelyn urgent whisper."… Bane," Jocelyn was saying. "I've been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voice mail says he's in Tanzania. What am I supposed to do?"

"Jocelyn." Luke shook his head. "You can't keep going to him forever."

"But Clary—"

"Isn't Jonathan," Luke hissed. "You've never been the same since it happened, but Clary isn't Jonathan."

"I can't just keep them at home, not let them go out. They won't put up with it. Especially Mallory"

"Of course they won't!" Luke sounded really angry. "There not pets, There teenagers. Almost adults."

"If we were out of the city…"

"Talk to them, Jocelyn." Luke's voice was firm. "I mean it." He reached for the doorknob.

The door flew open. Jocelyn gave a little scream.

"Jesus!" Luke exclaimed.

"Actually, it's just me," said Simon. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling." He waved at Clary and Mallory from the doorway. "You guys ready?"

Jocelyn took her hand away from her mouth. "Simon, were you eavesdropping?"

Simon blinked. "No, I just got here." He looked from Jocelyn's pale face to Luke's grim one. "Is something wrong? Should I go?"

"Don't bother," Luke said. "I think we're done here." He pushed past Simon, thudding down the stairs at a rapid pace. Downstairs, the front door slammed shut.

Simon hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain. "I can come back later," he said. "Really. It wouldn't be a problem."

"That might—," Jocelyn began, but Clary was already on her feet.

"Forget it, Simon. We're leaving," she said, grabbing her messenger bag from a hook near the door. She slung it over her shoulder, glaring at Jocelyn. "See you later, Mom."

Jocelyn bit her lip. "Clary, don't you think we should talk about this?"

"We'll have plenty of time to talk while we're on 'vacation,'" Clary said venomously, "Don't wait up," she added, and, grabbing Simon's arm, she half-dragged him out the front door.

Mallory nearly tripped over her feet as she quickly got her bag, putting it over her shoulder and following Clary only glancing at Jocelyn blankly as she looked at her sadly. Malloy opened her mouth but quickly shut it not knowing what to say and with a hesitant nod smiled weakly at Jocelyn and walked out the door passing Simon and Clary.

Simon had dug his heels in, looking apologetically over his shoulder at Jocleyn, who stood small and forlorn in the entryway, her hands knitted tightly together. "Bye, Mrs. Fray!" he called. "Have a nice evening!"

"Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary snapped, and slammed the door behind them, cutting off her mother's reply.

"Jesus, woman, don't rip my arm off," Simon protested as Clary hauled him downstairs after her, her green Skechers slapping against the wooden stairs with every angry step.

"Sorry," Clary muttered, letting go of his wrist. She paused at the foot of the stairs, her messenger bag banging against her hip as she stood behind Mallory who had stopped suddenly staring at the door in front of her. Mallory stared at the door her head tilted the side.

The house that they lived in was split into separate apartments, and Mallory, Clary and Jocelyn shared the three-floor building with a downstairs tenant, an elderly woman who ran a psychic's shop out of her apartment. She hardly ever came out of it, though customer visits were infrequent. A gold plaque fixed to the door proclaimed her to be madame DOROTHEA, SEERESS AND PROPHETESS.

The thick sweet scent of incense spilled from the half-open door into the foyer. Mallory could hear a low murmur of voices.

"Nice to see she's doing a booming business," Simon said. "It's hard to get steady prophet work these days."

"Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?" Clary snapped.

Mallory glanced at them over her shoulder with raised eyebrows. They hardly fought, if anything it had always been Mallory and Simon who fought once in a blue moon. Obviously Clary was more emotional over Jocelyn statement about the farm house than Mallory was if she was snapping at the boy she liked.

Simon blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you liked it when I was witty and ironic."

Clary looked like she was about to reply when the door to Madame Dorothea's swung fully open and a man stepped out. Mallory looked away from them as they argued in whispers to look at the man. He was tall, with maple-syrup-colored skin, gold-green eyes like a cat's, and tangled black hair. He grinned at her blindingly, showing sharp white teeth.

A wave of dizziness came over her, the strong sensation that she was going to faint.

Simon glanced away from Clary as Mallory stumbled slightly on her feet and stared at her uneasily. "Are you all right? You look like you're going to pass out."

She blinked at him. "What? No, I'm fine."

He didn't seem to want to let it drop. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

She shook her head. The memory of having seen something teased her, but when she tried to concentrate, it slid away like water. "Nothing. I thought I saw Dorothea's cat, but I guess it was just a trick of the light." Both Clary and Simon stared at her. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday," she added defensively. "I guess I'm a little out of it."

Clary wrapped her arms around Mallory's waist since she was shorter than Mallory's tall height. "Come on, I'll buy you some food."

"I just can't believe she's being like this," Clary said for the fourth time, chasing a stray bit of guacamole around her plate with the tip of a nacho. They were at a neighborhood Mexican joint, a hole in the wall called Nacho Mama. "Like grounding us every other week wasn't bad enough. Now we're going to be exiled for the rest of the summer."

"I know. I don't even know where this is coming from. She never said anything about the farm before." Mallory agreed confused as glared at the table. She was letting all her pent up frustrations and anger out now that she was away from Jocelyn. She moved her nacho's around already half way through eating them.

"Well, you know, how Jocelyn gets like this sometimes," Simon said. "Like when she breathes in or out." He grinned at her around his veggie burrito.

"Oh, sure, act like it's funny," Clary said. "You're not the one getting dragged off to the middle of nowhere for God knows how long—"

"Guys." Simon interrupted her tirade. "I'm not the one you're mad at. Besides, it isn't going to be permanent."

"How do you know that?" Mallory asked annoyed

"Well, because I know Jocelyn," Simon said, after a pause. "I mean, you two and I have been friends for what, ten years now? I know she gets like this sometimes. She'll think better of it."

Clary picked a hot pepper off her plate and nibbled the edge meditatively. "Do you, though?" she said. "Know her, I mean? I sometimes wonder if anyone does."

Simon blinked at her. "You lost me there."

Mallory looked at Clary too confused to where all of these was coming from.

Clary exhaled loudly. "I mean, she never talks about herself. I don't know anything about her early life, or her family, or much about how she met my dad. She doesn't even have wedding photos. And if she ever says things about herself it's only when she talks about Mallory's parents, and even that she keeps things minimum. It's like her life started when she had me. That's what she always says when I ask her about it."

Mallory pulled her fingers through her hair. Clary was right, Jocelyn barely said anything about herself. Jocelyn would always tell Mallory stories about her parents but she would never go into detail about how they were entwined. The only thing she really knew was that her mother had been close friends with Jocelyn since they were little girls.

"Aw." Simon made a face at her. "That's sweet."

"No, it isn't. It's weird. It's weird that I don't know anything about my grandparents. I mean, I know my dad's parents weren't very nice to her, but could they have been that bad? What kind of people don't want to even meet their granddaughter?"

"Maybe she hates them. Maybe they were abusive or something," Simon suggested. "She does have those scars."

Clary stared at him. "She has what?"

Mallory stared at him too, turning herself in her chair to look at him properly. She had never seen scars on Jocelyn.

He swallowed a mouthful of burrito. "Those little thin scars. All over her back and her arms. I have seen Jocelyn in a bathing suit, you know."

"I never noticed any scars," Clary said decidedly. "I think you're imagining things."

"Yeah," agreed Mallory. "If she had scars we would of seen. We live with her for god sake, she couldn't of his them. And come on, Clary's grandparents being abusive to Jocelyn. I can't really imagine it."

He stared at both of them, and seemed about to say something when Clary's cell phone, buried in her messenger bag, began an insistent blaring. Clary fished it out, gazed at the numbers blinking on the screen, and scowled. "It's my mom."

"I could tell from the look on your face. You going to talk to her?" asked Simon slapping Mallory's hands away from his veggie burrito as she tried to steal a bite.

"Not right now," Clary said. "I don't want to fight with her."

"You guys can always stay at my house," Simon said. "For as long as you want."

"Well, we'll see if she calms down first." Clary punched the voice mail button on her phone and put it between her and Mallory who leaned forward to hear the message. Jocelyn voice sounded tense, but she was clearly trying for lightness: "Baby, I'm sorry if I sprang the vacation plan on you and Mallory. Come on home and we'll talk." Clary hung the phone up before the message ended. "She wants to talk about it."

"Do you want to talk to her?" Simon said

"I don't know." Clary rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. "Are you still going to the poetry reading?"

"I promised I would."

Clary stood up, pushing her chair back. "Then I'll go with you. I'll call her when it's over." The strap of her messenger bag slid down her arm. Simon pushed it back up absently, his fingers lingering at the bare skin of her shoulder.

Clary blushed heavily and turned to Mallory. "Are you going to come to the poetry reading."

Mallory smirked raising her eyebrows in amusements her eyes glinting cheekily as she looked between them and nodded standing up and grabbing her bag. "Sure."

They followed behind Simon as they walked to the door, Mallory leaned over to Clary and whispered. "Are you you don't want me to leave though so you and Simon can have a few more touchy moments."

Clary scowled and hit Mallory on the shoulder.

The air outside was spongy with moisture, the humidity frizzing Clary's hair and sticking Simon's blue T-shirt to his back. Mallory had to take off her brown leather jacket and put it in her bag leaving her in a blue shirt.

"So, what's up with the band?" Clary asked. "Anything new? There was a lot of yelling in the background when I talked to you earlier."

Simon's face lit up. "Things are great," he said. "Matt says he knows someone who could get us a gig at the Scrap Bar. We're talking about names again too."

"Oh, yeah?" Clary smiled. "What's on the table?"

"Probably something terrible." Mallory stated bluntly. She ignored Simon's offended glance in her direction with a shrug of her shoulders. The stupid boy band they had started was something she had put her nose up at. She didn't even think most of them knew how to play an instruments.

"We're choosing between Sea Vegetable Conspiracy and Rock Solid Panda." said Simon proudly

Mallory shook her head. "Like I said terrible."

"Eric suggested Lawn Chair Crisis." said Simon defensively

Clary looked between them with amusements and suggested "Maybe Eric should stick to gaming."

"But then we'd have to find a new drummer."

"Oh, is that what Eric does? I didn't even know he knew how to play the drums. I thought he just mooched money off you and went around telling girls at school that he was in a band in order to impress them." Mallory rolled her eyes

"Not at all," Simon said breezily. "Eric has turned over a new leaf. He has a girlfriend. They've been going out for three months."

"Practically married," Clary said, stepping around a couple pushing a toddler in a stroller: a little girl with yellow plastic clips in her hair who was clutching a pixie doll with gold-streaked sapphire wings. Mallory smiled gently at the girl but slowed down as she thought she saw the wings flutter. She turned her head hastily and walked faster. She noticed Clary had also looked away from the girl quickly with a confused look and wondered if she had seen the same thing. She wouldn't bring it up. Maybe if they ignored whatever was happening to them it would go away. Though with there luck probably not.

"Which means," Simon continued, "that I am the last member of the band not to have a girlfriend. Which, you know, is the whole point of being in a band. To get girls."

"I thought it was all about the music." Mallory said "Who cares if you have a girlfriend, anyway?"

"I care," Simon said gloomily. "Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like Windex."

"At least you know he's still available." joked Mallory

Simon glared. "Not funny, Mallory."

"There's always Sheila 'The Thong' Barbarino," Mallory suggested. Clary and Mallory sat behind her in class and always had the unpleasant view of her thong riding up from her low-riding jeans as she bent down to get her pencil from her bag.

"That is who Eric's been dating for the past three months," Simon said. "His advice, meanwhile, was that I ought to just decide which girl in school had the most rockin' bod and ask her out on the first day of classes."

"Eric is a sexist pig," Clary said harshly, who had been quiet from the conversation about Simon getting a girlfriend. Mallory winced as she remembered that Clary did have a crush on Simon. "Maybe you should call the band The Sexist Pigs."

"It has a ring to it." Simon seemed unfazed. Clary made a face at him, her messenger bag vibrating as her phone blared. She fished it out of the zip pocket. "Is it your mom again?" he asked.

Clary nodded.

She glanced up at Simon, who was looking at her and shoved the phone back into her bag. "Come on," she said. "We're going to be late for the show."

Mallory sighed but followed


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they got to Java Jones, Eric was already onstage, swaying back and forth in front of the microphone with his eyes squinched shut. He'd dyed the tips of his hair pink for the occasion. Behind him, Matt, looking stoned, was beating irregularly on a djembe.

"Oh my god." Mallory mumbled horrified, her blue eyes opened wide as she stared at the scene in front of her.

"This is going to suck so hard," Clary predicted. She grabbed Simon's sleeve and Mallory's hand and tugged them toward the doorway. "If we make a run for it, we can still get away."

Mallory seemed to agree with idea as she nodded her head heading for door not needing to be tugged. But Simon shook his head determinedly. "I'm nothing if not a man of my word." He squared his shoulders. "I'll get the coffee if you two find us a seat. What do you want?"

"Just coffee. Black—like my soul." Clary told him

Mallory's shoulders had slumped knowing they weren't leaving. She huffed pouting and pushing Simon's shoulder passing him. "I'm coming with you. You never get my order right."

Simon headed off toward the coffee bar with Mallory muttering under his breath to her saying something along the lines of being difficult. Mallory only smiled sweetly at him. Clary went to find them a seat.

The coffee shop was crowded for a Monday; most of the threadbare-looking couches and armchairs were taken up with teenagers enjoying a free weeknight. The smell of coffee and clove cigarettes was overwhelming. Finally Clary found an unoccupied love seat in a darkened corner toward the back. The only other person nearby was a blond girl in an orange tank top, absorbed in playing with her iPod. Good, Clary thought, Eric won't be able to find us back here after the show to ask how his poetry was.

The blond girl leaned over the side of her chair and tapped Clary on the shoulder. "Excuse me." Clary looked up in surprise. "Is that your boyfriend?" the girl asked.

Clary followed the line of the girl's gaze, already prepared to say, No, I don't know him, when she realized the girl meant Simon. He was headed toward them, face scrunched up in concentration as he tried not to drop either of his Styrofoam cups. Mallory behind him holding her own coffee cup "Uh, no," Clary said. "He's a friend of mine."

The girl beamed. "He's cute. Is that his girlfriend behind him" she sounded threatened as she looked over at Mallory over Simon's shoulder.

Clary understood why the girl would be threatened. Mallory was beautiful, one of the most prettiest girls she had seen, with her long light blonde hair that was usually down and loose to her waist and clear pretty blue eyes. It didn't help that she was slim and tall with long legs. The only thing that played down her beauty was that she didn't wear girly things mainly sticking to shirts, jeans and shorts. And her brown leather jacket that she always wore "No."

The girl looked suspicious. "Is he gay?"

Clary was spared responding to this by Simon and Mallory's return. The blond girl sat back hastily as Simon set the cups on the table and threw himself down next to Clary. Mallory sat beside him crossing her legs, glancing confusingly at the blonde girl who had left quickly.

"I hate it when they run out of mugs. Those things are hot." He blew on his fingers and scowled. Clary tried to hide a smile as she watched him. It was getting harder to keep her feelings from showing in front of him, he had filled out this past year making it harder for not to stare. Mallory had always told her that Simon liked her as well but she didn't believe it. She wasn't girlfriend material. She wasn't beautiful or pretty. She was just cute. She remembered Simon saying that he needed to find a girl with a rocking body. Something Clary did not have. "You're staring at me," Simon said. "Why are you staring at me? Have I got something on my face?"

I should tell him, she thought, though some part of her was reluctant she still liked Simon. I'd be a bad friend if I didn't. "Don't look now, but that blond girl over there thinks you're cute," she whispered quietly.

Simon's eyes flicked sideways to stare at the girl, who was industriously studying an issue of Shonen Jump. "The girl in the orange top?" Clary nodded. Simon looked dubious. "What makes you think so?"

Tell him. Go on, tell him. Clary opened her mouth to reply, and was interrupted by a burst of feedback. She winced and covered her ears as Eric, onstage, wrestled with his microphone. Out the corner of her eye she saw Mallory glare at Eric as she nearly spilled her coffee from the noise.

"Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come, my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"

Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."

Clary giggled. "Who uses the word loins'?"

"Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."

"Not surprised," Mallory snorted. "This is like torture."

"Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!"

"You bet it does," Clary said. She slid down in the seat next to Simon. She glanced over at Mallory who seemed busy listening to Eric laughing under her breath. She turned to Simon. "Anyway, about that girl who thinks you're cute—"

"Never mind that for a second," Simon said. Clary blinked at him in surprise. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Furious Mole is not a good name for a band," Clary said immediately.

"Not that," Simon said. "It's about what we were talking about before. About me not having a girlfriend."

"Oh." Clary lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Oh, I don't know. Ask Jaida Jones out," she suggested trying not to sound bitter, naming one of the few girls at St. Xavier's she actually liked. But even than she didn't want Jaida to go anywhere near Simon "She's nice, and she likes you."

"Uh," Mallory sounded disgusted and Clary turned around to Mallory wondering if she was listening in the conversation but Mallory was staring at her coffee with a veil of annoyance ,her mouth scrunched up.

"What is it?" Clary asked

"They didn't put any sugar in," Mallory stood up. "Who doesn't put sugar in coffee. I'll be back I'm going to get some sugar and have a talk to them. This is the second time." She walked off to the coffee bar before Clary or Simon could say anything with a determined face. Clary smiled feeling sorry for the person on the end of Mallory's annoyance at the coffee bar.

"Back to what we were saying I don't want to ask Jaida Jones out." Simon began to say keeping their conversation going before Mallory had interrupted.

"Why not?" Clary found herself seized with a sudden, unspecific resentment, ignoring the relief that settled in her heart. "You don't like smart girls? Still seeking a rockin' bod?"

"Neither," said Simon, who seemed agitated. "I don't want to ask her out because it wouldn't really be fair to her if I did…"

He trailed off. Clary leaned forward nervously. From the corner of her eye she could see the blond girl leaning forward too, plainly eavesdropping. "Why not?"

"Because I like someone else," Simon said.

"Okay." Simon looked faintly greenish, the way he had once when he'd broken his ankle playing soccer in the park with Mallory and had had to limp home on it. She wondered what on earth about liking someone could possibly have him wound up to such a pitch of anxiety. "You're not gay, are you?"

Simon's greenish color deepened. "If I were, I would dress better."

"So, who is it, then?" Clary asked reluctantly not really wanting to know Simon liking anyone especially a girl. She was about to ask again but was stopped when there was a loud noise over by the coffee shop. Mallory was bending down picking up pieces of paper that must of fallen out of the wooden holder on the bench of the coffee shop.

"Sorry, sorry...I didn't mean too..." Mallory said this hurriedly with a shaky voice as she put the wooden holder on the bench looking over her shoulder with a pale face.

Clary turned around to see where she was staring and gaped. Standing just a few steps away from Mallory was Jace. He was wearing the same dark clothes he'd had on the night before in the club. His arms were bare and covered with faint white lines like old scars. His wrists bore wide metal cuffs; she could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from the left one. He was looking at Mallory, the side of his narrow mouth quirked in amusement.

"What is it?" Simon had followed her gaze, but it was obvious from the blank expression on his face that he couldn't see Jace.

But I see you. She stared at Jace as she thought it, he began walking, unhurriedly, toward the door. Clary's lips parted in surprise. He was leaving, just like that. Mallory was looking just as surprised but instead of watching after him like Clary was she walked after Jace not looking behind her.

She felt Simon's hand on her arm. He was saying her name, asking her if something was wrong. She barely heard him. "I'll be right back," she heard herself say, as she sprang off the couch, almost forgetting to set her coffee cup down. She raced toward the door, leaving Simon staring after her. She hoped Mallory was alright with Jace by herself.

...

Mallory walked through the back door slowly wondering why in the hell she had followed Jace like an idiot. She saw him kill someone or something, whatever it was was he killed the guy and now she was following him outside to the back of the coffee shop. Obviously something was wrong with her. Jace was there, slouched against the wall. He had just taken something out of his pocket and was punching buttons on it. He looked up in surprise as the door of the coffee shop fell shut behind her.

In the rapidly falling twilight, his hair looked coppery gold. "Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said.

Mallory blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "Excuse me?"

"I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random."

"I know what you said. And Eric's not my friend." Mallory sniffed annoyed. "I want to know why you're following me and Clary."

"Who said I was following you?"

"Nice try. You were standing right behind in the coffee shop. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"

"And tell them what?" Jace said witheringly. "That invisible people are bothering you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."

"My name is not little girl," she said through her teeth. "It's Mallory."

"I know," he said. "Pretty name. And your friends name Clary."

Mallory glared at him suddenly defensive at the mention of Clary. How did he know Clary's name or hers for that matter. She shifted on her feet suddenly getting it through her head that Jace was dangerous. She crossed her arms defensively. The door slammed open behind them making them look away from each other surprised, out the corner of her eye she saw Jace put a hand on the bone handle of his knife.

Clary stood there looking flushed as she stared between them, she walked hurriedly over to Mallory standing beside her.

"Are you okay?" Clary asked worried.

No, she wanted to say. Everything in the past two days was making her have a headache and making her see things that weren't suppose to be real. She forced a smile on her face and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She turned back around to Jace her smile fading. "How did you know our names?"

"You don't know much, do you?" he said. There was a lazy contempt in his gold eyes. "You seem to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet you two can see me. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?" Mallory asked not sure if she should feel insulted at the word she didn't know.

"Someone of the human world. Someone like you."

"But you're human," Clary said.

"I am," he said. "But I'm not like you." There was no defensiveness in his tone. He sounded like he didn't care if they believed him or not.

"You think you're better. Let me tell you from what I'm seeing your not. Now I'm going to ask again why are you following us." Mallory said with a bite in her voice glaring at him.

"Because Hodge thought you two might be dangerous, but if you are, you certainly don't know it." Jace told the,

"We're dangerous?" Clary echoed in astonishment. "We saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs, and—" She cut off swallowing loudly as she looked away from both of them, her freckled face pale under her bright red hair. Mallory looked down as well biting her lip, blinking her eyes quickly. She really was trying not to remember what happened.

"I may be a killer," Jace said, "but I know what I am. Can you say the same?"

"We're ordinary human being, just like you said." Mallory said looking back up at Jace with a sarcastic smile on her face. "Who's Hodge?"

"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself as ordinary, if I were you." He leaned forward. "Let me see your right hand."

"Why?" Mallory said hiding her hand behind her back. He rolled his eyes. "If I show you my hand, will you leave us alone?"

"Certainly." His voice was edged with amusement.

Clary looked back at them curiously watching what was happening.

She held out her right hand grudgingly. She didn't want to show him her hand she wanted to be stubborn and annoy him but if it meant that he left her and Clary alone she had to show her hand. She was also curious why he wanted to see it. She had a normal hand like everyone else. He took her hand in his and turned it over. "Nothing." He sounded almost disappointed. "You're not left-handed, are you?"

"No. Why?"

Jace turned to Clary who eyed him warily with narrowed eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have anything on your hand would you?"

"No." Clary shook her head.

Mallory raised her eyebrows as she noticed he still had a hold of her hand and cleared her throat looking pointedly at their hands.

He released her hand with a shrug. "Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left, if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends an extra skill with weapons." He showed Mallory the back of his left hand; it looked perfectly normal to her.

"I don't see anything," she said.

"Let your mind relax," he suggested. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

"You're annoying you know that right." Mallory said but did what he said, gazing at his hand, seeing the tiny lines across the knuckles, the long joints of the fingers, It jumped out at her suddenly, flashing like a don't walk sign. A black design like an eye across the back of his hand. She blinked, and it vanished. "A tattoo?"

He smiled smugly and lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—it's a Mark. They're runes, burned into our skin. And I don't think I'm that annoying"

Mallory snorted half amused.

"They make you handle weapons better?" Clary said sounding like she found this hard to believe.

"Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but the majority vanish when they've been used."

"That's why your arms aren't all inked up today?" Mallory asked. "Even when I concentrate?"

"That's exactly why." He sounded pleased with himself. "I knew you had the Sight, at least. And I bet Clary does too since you can both see us" He glanced up at the sky. "It's nearly full dark. We should go."

"We? I think your mind just had a relapse I thought you were going to leave us alone." Mallory said in disbelief.

"I lied," Jace said without a shred of embarrassment. "Hodge said I have to bring you two to the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you both."

"Why would he want to talk to us?" Clary asked biting her lip.

"Because you know the truth now," Jace said. "There hasn't been a mundane who knew about us for at least a hundred years. Especially two."

"About us?" Clary echoed. "You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."

"People who kill them," said Jace. "We're called Shadow-hunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us."

"Downworlders?" Mallory asked still glaring at Jace, annoyed that he had lied to her. But even more annoyed at herself that she believed him.

"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension."

Clary shook her head. "Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?"

"Of course there are," Jace informed her. "Although you mostly find zombies farther south, where the voudun priests are."

"What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?"

"Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."

Mallory scoffed. "Yes, because that's so ridiculous"

Jace smiled at Mallory with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"They don't?" Clary continued like Mallory hadn't interrupted. Her eyes dancing with knowledge as she looked at Jace curiosity on her face.

"Of course not," Jace said. "Look, Hodge will explain all this to you two when you see him."

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I don't want to see him?"

"That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."

Mallory stared at him shocked. "Your actually threatening to kidnap us?"

"If you want to look at it that way," Jace said, "yes."

"We'll it's not like you could anyway," Mallory stated. "There's two of us if you hadn't noticed and we'll your a bit scrawny aren't you." She smiled innocently as Jace looked at her offended. She was only the tiny amount right, he was lean but she could tell that he wasn't weak just by the way he held himself.

Mallory was about to say something to rile him up even more, but was interrupted by a strident buzzing noise. Clary's phone was ringing again.

"Go ahead and answer that if you like," Jace said generously glancing at Clary.

...

The phone stopped ringing, then started up again, loud and insistent. Clary frowned—her mom must really be freaking out. She half-turned away from Jace and Mallory and began digging in her bag. By the time she unearthed the phone, it was on its third set of rings. She raised it to her ear. "Mom?"

"Oh, Clary. Oh, thank God." A sharp prickle of alarm ran up Clary's spine. Her mother sounded panicked. "Listen to me—"

"It's all right, Mom. I'm fine. We're on our way home—"

"No!" Terror scraped Jocelyn's voice raw. "You and Mallory do not come home! Do you understand me, Clary? Don't you dare come home. Go to Simon's. Go straight to Simon's house and stay there until I can—" A noise in the background interrupted her: the sound of something falling, shattering, something heavy striking the floor—

"Mom!" Clary shouted into the phone. "Mom, are you all right?"

A loud buzzing noise came from the phone. Clary's mother's voice cut through the static: "Just promise me you and Mallory won't come home. Go to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—" Her words were drowned out by a heavy crash like splintering wood.

"Who's found you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—"

Her frantic question was cut off by a noise Clary would never forget—a harsh, slithering noise, followed by a thump. Clary heard her mother draw in a sharp breath before speaking, her voice eerily calm: "I love you and Mallory."

The phone went dead.

"Mom!" Clary shrieked into the phone. "Mom, are you there?" Call ended, the screen said. But why would her mother have hung up like that?

"Clary," Mallory said in a panicked voice . She looked pale her eyes wide as she stared at Clary, obviously she had heard Jocelyn screaming through the other side of the phone. "What's going on?"

Clary ignored her. Feverishly she hit the button that dialed her home number. There was no answer except a double-tone busy signal.

Clary's hands had begun to shake uncontrollably. When she tried to redial, the phone slipped out of her shaking grasp and hit the pavement hard. She dropped to her knees to retrieve it, but it was dead, a long crack visible across the front. "Dammit!" Almost in tears, she threw the phone down.

"Stop that." Jace hauled her to her feet, his hand gripping her wrist. "Has something happened?"

"Give me your phone," Clary said, grabbing the black metal oblong out of his shirt pocket. "I have to—"

"It's not a phone," Jace said, making no move to get it back. "It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."

"But I need to call the police!"

"Tell me what happened first." She tried to yank her wrist back, but his grip was incredibly strong. "I can help you."

Rage flooded through Clary, a hot tide through her veins. Without even thinking about it, she struck out at his face, her nails raking his cheek. He jerked back in surprise. Tearing herself free, Clary grabbed Mallory by the arm and tugged her along as she ran toward the lights of Seventh Avenue.

When she reached the street, she spun around, half-expecting to see Jace at her heels. But the alley was empty. For a moment she stared uncertainly into the shadows. Nothing moved inside them. Mallory's shaky gasps broke her out of her staring she spun on her heel and ran for home, Mallory following her without question.


	4. Chapter 4

The night had gotten even hotter, and running home felt like swimming as fast as she could through boiling soup. At the corner of there block Clary and Mallory got trapped at a don't walk sign. Carly jittered up and down impatiently on the balls of her feet while traffic whizzed by in a blur of headlights. Mallory stood beside her, running her hands through her hair like she always did when she anxious. Clary tried to call home again, but Jace hadn't been lying; his phone wasn't a phone. At least, it didn't look like any phone Clary had ever seen before. The Sensor's buttons didn't have numbers on them, just more of those bizarre symbols, and there was no screen.

Jogging up the street toward there house, Clary saw that the second-floor windows were lit, the usual sign that her mother was home. Okay, she told herself. Everything's fine. But her stomach tightened the moment she stepped into the entryway. The overhead light had burned out, and the foyer was in darkness. The shadows seemed full of secret movement. Shivering, she started upstairs. Behind her Mallory's tried to calm her breathing down, but it wasn't working.

"And just where do you think you're going ?" said a voice.

Mallory squealed frightened and moved to stand beside her, her whole frame quivering.

Clary whirled. "What—"

She broke off. Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and she could see the shape of a large armchair, drawn up in front of Madame Dorothea's closed door. The old woman was wedged into it like an overstuffed cushion. In the dimness Clary could see only the round shape of her powdered face, the white lace fan in her hand, the dark, yawning gap of her mouth when she spoke. "Your mother," Dorothea said, "has been making a godawful racket up there. What's she doing? Moving furniture?"

"I don't think—"

"And the stairwell light's burned out, did you notice?" Dorothea rapped her fan against the arm of the chair. "Can't your mother get her boyfriend in to change it?"

"Luke isn't—" Mallory began trying to cut Dorothea off.

"The skylight needs washing too. It's filthy. No wonder it's nearly pitch-black in here."

Luke is NOT the landlord, Clary wanted to say, but didn't. This was typical of her elderly neighbor. Once she got Luke to come around and change the lightbulb, she'd ask him to do a hundred other things—pick up her groceries, grout her shower. Once she'd made him chop up an old sofa with an axe so she could get it out of the apartment without taking the door off the hinges.

Clary sighed. "I'll ask."

"You'd better." Dorothea snapped her fan shut with a flick of her wrist.

Clary's sense that something was wrong only increased when they reached the apartment door. It was unlocked, hanging slightly open, spilling a wedge-shaped shaft of light onto the landing. With a feeling of increasing panic she pushed the door open.

...

Inside the apartment the lights were on, all the lamps, everything turned up to full brightness. The glow stabbed into her eyes.

Jocelyn's keys and pink handbag were on the small wrought iron shelf by the door, where she always left them.

"Mom?" Clary called out. "Mom, I'm home."

There was no reply. Clary went into the living room. Mallory followed her slowly her body tense ready to bolt out of the room if someone came at them, or even fight back if they laid a hand on her or Clary. Both windows were open, yards of gauzy white curtains blowing in the breeze like restless ghosts. Only when the wind dropped and the curtains settled did Mallory see that the cushions had been ripped from the sofa and scattered around the room. Some were torn lengthwise, cotton innards spilling onto the floor. The bookshelves had been tipped over, their contents scattered. The piano bench lay on its side, gaping open like a wound, Jocelyn's beloved music books spewing out.

Most terrifying were the paintings. Every single one had been cut from its frame and ripped into strips, which were scattered across the floor. It must have been done with a knife—canvas was almost impossible to tear with your bare hands. The empty frames looked like bones picked clean.

Mallory turned in a circle her hand raising to cover her mouth, her eyes were wide with panic. "Oh my god!" What had happened. Where was Jocelyn?

"Mom!" Clary shrieked. "Where are you? Mommy!"

Mallory swallowed back her fear and moved over to Clary and pointed to her lips shushing her quickly, her fingers shaking as she did.

"Shh...we don't know if someone's still here."

Clary chocked out a sob but nodded sniffing. Mallory grabbed Clary's hand quickly squeezing it and dragged her away from the lounge room. Mallory peered into the kitchen but quickly pulled Clary away before she could see the mess of the kitchen, open cabinets and smashed bottles. She slowly walked into the hallway keeping Clary behind her as she looking both ways warily before walking over to Jocelyn's bedroom and opened the door up wide to look in hoping that Jocelyn was in her room. She wasn't and the hope faded. It looked like this room was the only one untouched.

Clary sobbed covering her mouth.

Mallory turned around and pulled her into a hug, patting her back in some comfort. It didn't work but Clary held on tighter to her brushing her face against Mallory's hair. She sighed quivering but tried not to cry, she had to be strong for Clary but all she could hear was the terrified voice of Jocelyn coming from Clary's phone. She had never heard her sound so scared before. And now Jocelyn was gone, the only parents figure Mallory had left. The only parent Clary had left.

She tried to think about what they should do. Should they call the police and report Jocelyn missing, how were they going to find her when the only trace left of Jocelyn was a mess in the house. Mallory had no idea where she could of gone or who could of taken her. Why would people even want to kidnap Jocelyn? She was just a normal painter, nothing important to kidnap.

Mallory and Clary pulled apart from the hug slowly as they heard a noise. Like something being knocked over a heavy object striking the floor with a dull thud. The thud was followed by a dragging, slithering noise and it was coming toward the bedroom. Clary stepped back her eyes wide at the thing in front of them. Mallory didn't move until Clary pulled her back as well a gasp stuck in the back of Mallory's throat as she breathed rapidly.

The thing in front of them was crouched against the floor, a long, scaled creature with a cluster of flat black eyes set dead center in the front of its domed skull. Something like a cross between an alligator and a centipede, it had a thick, flat snout and a barbed tail that whipped menacingly from side to side. Multiple legs bunched underneath it as it readied itself to spring.

A shriek tore itself out of Clary's throat. Mallory pushed Clary to the side and dropped to the ground as the creature lunged at them, missing them by an inch it's claws scratching on the floor creating deep claw marks in the ground. A low growl bubbled from its throat.

Mallory scrambled to her feet, dragging Clary with her they both ignored the tight grip of Mallory's hand on Clary's arm to scared to notice if Clary was in pain from the tight grip. They ran toward the hallway, but the thing was too fast for them. It sprang again, landing just above the door, where it hung like a gigantic malignant spider, staring down at them with its cluster of eyes. Its jaws opened slowly, showing a row of fanged teeth spilling greenish drool. A long black tongue flickered out between its jaws as it gurgled and hissed. To her horror Mallory realised that the noises it was making were words.

"Girls," it hissed. "Flesh. Blood. To eat, oh, to eat."

It began to slither slowly down the wall. Mallory pushed Clary behind her moving them backwards, her arm spread out in some form of weak protection against the creature she doubted that it would work. The thing was on its feet now, crawling toward them. Behind her, Clary seized a heavy framed photo off the bureau beside her, which held a picture of Mallory, Clary, Jocelyn and Luke at Coney Island, about to go on the bumper cars—and flung it at the monster.

The photograph hit its midsection and bounced off, striking the floor with the sound of shattering glass. The creature didn't seem to notice. It came on toward them, broken glass splintering under its feet. "Bones, to crunch, to suck out the marrow, to drink the veins…"

Mallory stopped as she noticed there backs were to the wall. They couldn't back up no farther. Mallory stepped back until her back hit the wall, Mallory and Clary stood side to side staring at the creature. Out the corner of her eyes she saw Clary plunging her hand inside, she drew out the plastic thing she'd taken from Jace. The Sensor was shuddering, like a cell phone set to vibrate.

"Clary?" Mallory whispered. Clary didn't brake her stare from the creature closing her hand around the Sensor just as the creature sprang. Mallory shrieked ducking, her arms covering her face.

The creature hurtled into them knocking Clary to the ground, and her head and shoulders slammed against the floor."To eat, to eat," it moaned. "But it is not allowed, to swallow, to savor."

Mallory had jumped away from the creature when it lunged and had now scrambled to her feet, whipping her head around her as she tried to find something to attack it with to get it off Clary. She could see Clary struggling and without thinking she ran at the creature with nothing but her bare hands.

"Get off her," she shrieked loudly trying to push it off Clary but it didn't even move instead whipping it's head and pushing her roughly to the side, her head hitting the wall. Mallory groaned her hands going to her head dots in her eyes. Her head hurt like it had been hit with a baseball bat. She could hear Clary shrieking.

"Mallory, Mallory!"

"Valentine will never know. He said nothing about girls. Valentine will not be angry." The creatures lipless mouth twitched as its jaws opened, slowly. Mallory struggled to stand up using her hands to lean against the wall blinking her eyes, her eyes wide as she watched the situation in front of her.

Clary's hand had came free. With a scream she hit out at the thing. As the creature lunged for her face, jaws wide, she jammed the Sensor between its teeth. Mallory finally pushed from the wall crawling over to Clary slowly keeping her eyes on the creature watching as it swallowed the Sensor and gulped terrified. In only a matter of minutes it would be swallowing herself and Clary. She stopped as the creature began to move again.

Looking almost surprised, the creature jerked back, the Sensor lodged between two teeth. It growled, a thick angry buzz, and threw its head back.

Suddenly the thing began to twitch. Spasming uncontrollably, it rolled off Clary and onto its back, multiple legs churning the air. Black fluid poured from its mouth.

Gasping for air, Clary rolled over and started to scramble away from the thing. Mallory helped her up and they scrambled for the door together, behind her she could hear a whistling noise in the air and a slight bang. She chocked a startled gasp as Clary suddenly fell down to the floor beside her passed out. She kneeled beside her pushing Clary onto her back and pressed her fingers to her neck and sighed in relief as she felt her pulse under her fingertips. She glanced over to where the creature had been and scrunched her nose up in disgust. It's body parts covered the floor and walls, it was like clear gooey liquid.

She tensed as she heard footsteps coming to the door and looked up. Jace stood there, his face barely visible by the black hoodie that was hiding his face, he looked surprised at the sight in front of him his gaze going between Mallory and the passed out Clary to the glump on the walls and floor.

"What are you doing here?" Mallory gasped out. Why wasn't she shocked that he was here. When ever weird things happened he seemed to follow it.

"Well you did steal my Sensor." Jace stated normally stepping into the room.

"Oh I'm so sorry for stealing your precious Sensor. I didn't even steal it anyway it was Clary. We thought it was a phone."

"Well it wasn't was it."

"No."

Jace smirked at her making her bristle. She wondered about his health, any usual person would be freaking out if they stepped into the room that was as damaged as their house was. He walked closer to her passing them on the floor not even glancing at the passed out Clary and moved over to where most of the glump was and kneeled beside it.

Mallory looked at him confused. "What are you doing?"

Jace stood up and held out his hand that had the Sensor in it. It was covered by the creatures body parts but Jace didn't look as he minded as he brushed it off with the sleeve of his black jacket and put it back in his shirt pocket. He looked around the room looking slightly impressed.

"I can't believe you actually killed it."

"Clary killed it," Mallory said quickly watching as he walked closer and kneeled beside them reaching for Clary before he could touch her Mallory pulled Clary away and eyed him dangerously. "What do you want?"

Jace rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "We have to get out of here. Unless you want to carry her out of the house."

"Why do we have to leave?" Mallory asked. Maybe Jocelyn would hurry through the in any second and everything would be alright since she was there. She would tell off Jace and make him leave

"Would you like those things to come back with you here. Trust me they won't be as easy as the one before."

"Come back," Mallory echoed. "Okay fine but if you do anything..."

Jace picked up Clary effortlessly, his hoody had fallen and revealed his blonde hair. Mallory slowly stood up her legs still shaking from the experience she just had. She went to follow Jace but stopped suddenly remembering something.

"Wait," Mallory said. "Just wait here for a second." She ran to her room barely blinking at the mess in her room. It had been thrown around as well. Her bed was tore open by knife marks, her draws were all open and her mirror in the corner of her room was smashed. She went to the picture that sat on the corner of her bed side table, it was on it's back and had a scratch on the glass, she took out the picture from the photo frame.

It was picture of her Mallory with her parents. She was only two years old and was being held by her father. Her mother stood beside them with a beaming smile. She looked exactly like her mother from the blonde hair and blue eyes the only thing Mallory had gotten from her father was his height. Her father looked the exact opposite from herself and her mother with short dark brown hair and green eyes. She folded the picture and put it into her jean pockets and quickly walked back to Jace and the passed out Clary in his arms.

"Okay we can go."

...

Light stabbed through her eyelids, blue, white, and red. There was a high wailing noise, rising in pitch like the scream of a terrified child. Clary gagged and opened her eyes.

She was lying on cold damp grass. The night sky rippled overhead, the pewter gleam of stars washed out by city lights. Jace knelt beside her, the silver cuffs on his wrists throwing off sparks of light as he tore the piece of cloth he was holding into strips. "Don't move."

"It's going to be alright, Clary."

That was Mallory's voice. Clary turned her head to the side, disobediently, and was rewarded with a razoring stab of pain that shot down her back. She was lying on a patch of grass behind Jocelyn's carefully tended rosebushes. Mallory knelt beside her holding her hand with worried eyes. The foliage partially hid her view of the street, where a police car, its blue-and-white light bar flashing, was pulled up to the curb, siren wailing. Already a small knot of neighbors had gathered, staring as the car door opened and two blue-uniformed officers emerged.

The police. She tried to sit up, and gagged again, fingers spasming into the damp earth.

"I told you not to move," Jace hissed. "That Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. Hold still."

"You don't have to be so harsh," Mallory growled. She turned to Clary and pushed her slowly back to the ground gently. "You have to lay down Clary. Your injured."

"That thing—the monster—it talked." Clary was shuddering uncontrollably.

"You've heard a demon talk before." Jace's hands were gentle as he slipped the strip of knotted cloth under her neck, and tied it. It was smeared with something waxy, like the gardener's salve her mother used to keep her paint- and turpentine-abused hands soft.

"That demon back at the club looked human enough. Whatever that thing was didn't look the one at the club." Mallory said moving Clary's hair that was sticking to her face.

"It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look. Not very attractive, but they're too stupid to care."

"It said it was going to eat us." Clary gulped

"But it didn't. You killed it." Jace finished the knot and sat back.

To Clary's relief the pain in the back of her neck had faded. She hauled herself into a sitting position ignoring the annoyed glance she got from Mallory. "The police are here." Her voice came out like a frog's croak. "We should—"

"There's nothing they can do. Somebody probably heard you two screaming and reported it. Ten to one those aren't real police officers. Demons have a way of hiding their tracks."

Mallory sighed. "He's telling the truth. I can see their faces, there not as attractive as the one at the club."

"You thought a demon was attractive?" Jace snorted looking at Mallory with disbelief on his face.

"I didn't know he was a demon!" Mallory blushed.

"My mom," Clary said, forcing the words through her swollen throat.

"There's Ravener poison coursing through your veins right now. You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me." He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulled her upright. "Come on."

The world tilted. Jace slid a hand across her back, holding her steady. He smelled of dirt, blood, and metal. "Can you walk?"

"I think so." She glanced through the densely blooming bushes. She could see the police coming up the path. One of them, a slim blond woman, held a flashlight in one hand. As she raised it, Clary saw the hand was fleshless, a skeleton hand sharpened to bone points at the fingertips. "Her hand—"

"I told you they might be demons." Jace glanced at the back of the house. "We have to get out of here. Can we go through the alley?"

Clary shook her head. "It's bricked up. There's no way—" Her words dissolved into a fit of coughing. She raised her hand to cover her mouth. It came away red. She whimpered.

He grabbed her wrist, turned it over so the white, vulnerable flesh of her inner arm lay bare under the moonlight. Traceries of blue vein mapped the inside of her skin, carrying poisoned blood to her heart, her brain. Clary felt her knees buckle. There was something in Jace's hand, something sharp and silver. She tried to pull her hand back, but his grip was too hard: She felt a stinging kiss against her skin. When he let go, she saw an inked black symbol like the ones that covered his skin, just below the fold of her wrist. This one looked like a set of overlapping circles.

"What's that supposed to do?" Mallory asked. Clary turned to look at her and noticed that Mallory had started to look blurry .

"It'll hide her," he said. "Temporarily." He slid the thing Clary had thought was a knife back into his belt. It was a long, luminous cylinder, as thick around as an index finger and tapering to a point. "My stele," he said.

Clary didn't ask what that was. She was busy trying not to fall over. The ground was heaving up and down under her feet. "Jace," she said, and she crumpled into him. He caught her as if he were used to catching fainting girls, as if he did it every day. Maybe he did. He swung her up into his arms, saying something in her ear that sounded like Covenant. Clary tipped her head back to look at him but saw only the stars cartwheeling across the dark sky overhead. Then the bottom dropped out of everything, and even Jace's arms around her were not enough to keep her from falling.

"Is she going to be okay..."

Mallory's worried voice was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.


End file.
